Little Bits of Karma
by Laura Simmons
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Can be read as a standalone.
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She thought about last night and Charlie. The song “Me and Mrs. Jones” was running through her head like a freight train. She was having mental pictures of the two of them in the coffee shop and thinking of how they held hands walking to the Metro. I guess I sort of cheated on James last night, holding hands with another man, even though it wasn’t for very long. One part of her brain was thinking . . . Don’t be so hard on yourself. James has taken you for granted for a long time. He repeatedly hurt your feelings by choosing to spend time with his guy friends over you, and you never do fun things together anymore . . . no wonder you are attracted to someone else . . . Charlie is HOT! The other part of her brain countered with . . . Stop making excuses . . . you have years invested in James and you know you still love him . . . Work it out, don’t ruin it by having an affair. Her troubling thoughts were interrupted by James coming into the kitchen.
“Good morning,” he said as he poured his coffee into a bright yellow mug.
“Good morning,” she replied, feeling the unspoken coldness between them.
“So, what are your plans today?” he asked.
“I have an appointment at 11:30 downtown to see a psychic,” she replied.
James laughed out loud, and it broke the tension. She started to laugh too.
“Why the hell do you want to see a psychic?” he asked, still laughing.
“I overheard some ladies on the Metro talking about past lives and I thought it would be a fun thing to explore,” she replied.
“Past lives? I know you believe in that stuff . . . I don’t. I believe you get one chance at life, and then you turn into worm food,” he said with smug satisfaction. “Let me know what she says.”
“I will. It should be interesting,” Holly replied. She was used to James not taking any of this seriously. He sincerely believed you turn into worm food and that is the end of the road.
“I’m sorry I jumped on your case last night,” he said.
“That’s okay. I understand. It wasn’t smart, forgetting to lock the door,” she replied.
“How did you get home? You must have driven drunk,” he said, looking serious now.
“I told you last night that I got home fine. By the time I got to my car I wasn’t drunk anymore, just buzzed. I drove fine,” she replied, slightly agitated.
“How about I make a sausage, ham, and cheese omelet for us?” he asked, hoping an offer of food would calm the residual irritation between them.
“Sure. I’m extremely hungry right now,” she replied.
James cooked a delicious omelet for them. She loved that he could cook. There were advantages to living with a chef. James liked to invent new meals for the restaurant, and he often asked Holly to try them first, although it seemed like it had been months since he created a new entree. Holly scarfed down the omelet like a starving prisoner. James watched in amazement. He wasn’t used to seeing her eat like that.
“You just inhaled an omelet stuffed with meat, and it wasn’t a small one either. I’m still working on mine,” he said with a look of surprise on his face.
“The last thing I ate was a piece of chocolate cake last night and some potato skins several hours before that. No real dinner,” she replied.
“I’m surprised you aren’t sick this morning. Please be more careful in the future and never forget to lock the door behind you, especially late at night,” James said to her, trying his best to not sound scolding.
“Yes, Daddy,” she replied with a laugh and glanced up at the kitchen clock. “I need to get ready for my appointment.”
She took a shower and later as she was putting on her make-up, James took one. By the time he was finished showering, she was ready to go. He was blow drying his hair in the bathroom when she went to kiss him good-bye.
“I’ll see you when I get back,” Holly said and kissed him.
“What do you want to do tomorrow?” James asked her.
“Oh, I don’t know. Let me think about it,” she replied.
“Whatever you want is fine with me.”
“See you later,” she said.
This Saturday morning was sunny and warm and Holly was feeling anxious. She hoped this woman would be able to tell her about her past lives. She arrived ten minutes early to the appointment. Martina was located within walking distance from the Metro. She lived in a small row house with a sign in the front yard indicating her services by appointment only. Holly rang the doorbell, and Martina opened the door.
“Hello. Are you Holly O’Rourke?” Martina Preston asked her.
“Yes. Are you Martina?” she asked excitedly.
“Yes, I am. It’s great to meet you. Come on in,” Martina said with a smile and extended her hand. Martina’s demeanor was friendly and inviting and Holly instantly felt at ease.
Martina was a little lady, standing no more than 5 foot1. She was in her mid-30’s with a round, pretty face with crystal blue eyes, medium brown, curly hair that fell past her shoulders, and a voluptuous figure. She was wearing a red checkered sundress and matching solid red espadrille shoes. She led Holly into a small room with gleaming hardwood floors and two white leather chairs and a round wooden table. There were two windows in this room. Martina pulled down the shades to block the sun. There was a large wooden cabinet next to one of the windows. The room was practically empty.
“Have a seat Holly, and we will talk for a few minutes,” Martina said. The two women sat in the white chairs across from each other.
“So, you are here today for a past-life reading, correct?” Martina asked.
“Yes,” Holly replied.
“First, I want to tell you what will likely happen during this session. I go into a trancelike state, and my voice might change. I sometimes take on the behavior of whatever spirit guide is there to speak through me. Usually it is my spirit guide working together with your spirit guide to access your past lives. Each of us has spirit guides to help us in our earthly incarnations. Your primary spirit guide is assigned to you before reincarnating into your current body. As you go through life, the circle of your guides expands, depending on the work you need to accomplish. When you reincarnate, you go through a veil of amnesia, and as you learn and grow in this life, you wonder, what the heck am I here for?
“We come from heaven, a place of total love and happiness. Your enemies in this life are dear friends on the other side. By incarnating into physical bodies, you learn a deeper appreciation for good things and even the bad. The potential growth from experiencing the bad is tremendous. There is no ‘bad’ in heaven, and if you never reincarnate you won’t know the difference between good and bad. There are many wonderful worlds to advance to in heaven after your schooling on Earth and your incarnations are completed.
“We plan our lives before we are born, and our spirit guides are here to help us achieve what we came here to learn and do. They do this by giving us intuitive nudges in the right direction, although we don’t listen to them most of the time. They do their best to keep us on track and guide us for our own good.
“Today, we will be accessing an area of the spiritual realm called the Akashic Records. This realm contains detailed records of your past lives and the past lives for every soul who has reincarnated. Your thoughts, dreams, and actions are recorded for eternity. Do you have any questions before we start?” Martina asked.
“No, I understand. We can begin whenever you are ready,” Holly replied thinking . . . Even our thoughts are recorded for eternity? That’s embarrassing . . . Thank goodness not just anyone can access them.
“Okay. I will ask the guides to show the past lives that might resonate with you at this point in time,” Martina replied and became quiet.
It took several seconds for Martina to enter a trancelike state. She began to speak and the voice was not her own. A deep male voice was speaking with a distinct Middle-Eastern accent:
“Hello, Holly. My name is Kavi . . . I am your guide.” “You lived a life in Atlantis and fell deeply in love with your college teacher. He was married and would not leave his wife. You became pregnant with his child . . .” The voice paused for a few seconds.
“You lived a life in India in 1500 BC. You were a man in that life, and we were brothers. Your name was Sanjay. We were devout Hindus and ran a spiritual center together where we helped people better their lives . . .” Again, he paused for a few seconds before continuing.
“I see a life as a Roman Gladiator during the year of 47 BC. You were a prisoner of war and forced into fighting for the Roman’s entertainment . . .” More silence.
“You were a baby left on the doorstep of a monastery in Ireland in the year of 816 and raised by monks. You died young, as the monastery was raided and burned to the ground by Vikings. The Vikings gang raped you before cutting off your head . . .” Still more silence.
“You lived in Sweden in the 1740s during a time of war. You tended to wounded soldiers, like a nurse. You fell in love with a married soldier from an allied country and carried on an affair with him for over a year. This affair cost him his position, and he was stripped of rank and sent back home. This broke both of your hearts . . .” Again, the voice was silent.
“In another life in England in the 1850s, during the Victorian Era, I see that you and this same man were again secret lovers and married to other people. You were best friends with his wife, and your husband was often away from home due to work. You had a falling out with his wife that ended your friendship, and the two of you began having a secret affair. One day your husband came home from work and caught the two of you in bed together. He shot and killed your lover. You turned to alcohol to ease your depression and died 1 year later . . .” Moments later, the voice continued.
A Race Against Time
Can be read as a standalone.
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. . . “I want four slices of toast with that,” he ordered.
“This isn’t the way to a woman’s heart,” she hissed wanting to throw the carton of eggs at his face one by one. Nina wanted to throw eggs at him too; she could feel Amber’s humiliation at being forced to cook naked.
While she observed the situation, she focused on one of the eggs in the carton. “Ready, aim, fire!” she thought, and the egg flew through the air, hitting the side of his head. She knew she had to be careful because Mike was crazy and she didn’t want him to go over the edge and shoot Amber. She had to be discerning yet effective.
“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?” he bellowed as the egg splattered on him.
Amber turned to see what he was crowing about, and her mouth dropped open, “I swear I didn’t throw that egg at you. Although, I wish I had,” she said spitefully and wondered how in the world an egg flew across the room and hit him, and thought maybe it was from Bryce.
“Don’t just stand there, get me a damn towel and don’t burn the eggs! I know it wasn’t you, I’ve watched your every move. Unless . . . you willed it to fly out and hit me,” he said irritably.
“If I had those kinds of powers, I would have killed you yesterday,” she replied with disgust and threw him a towel to wipe off his face.
“You’re a bitch. I like you better sedated,” he stated.
She placed his scrambled eggs on a plate, buttered the toast, and sat his breakfast in front of him while he wiped the egg off with one hand, still holding onto the gun. “Can I get dressed now?” she asked with her hands on her hips, not caring anymore that she was naked, and feeling braver.
“Not yet. Open the refrigerator and take out the orange juice. There are two kinds, one of them is for you,” he said.
She grimaced retrieving the two types of orange juice from the refrigerator. She knew the one for her was laced with something. She assumed it was a date rape drug and the worst was yet to come.
“Pour me a glass of the one with pulp,” he ordered and watched her get two glasses from the cupboard and pour his drink. She set it in front of him. “Good girl. Now pour yourself a glass of the one without pulp and sit down, drink it, and watch me eat breakfast,” he said. She hesitated fearing it might kill her.
“POUR IT NOW! Exactly half a glass!” he demanded, and she did as instructed and sat down to watch him gobble up breakfast.
She knew she would soon be unconscious and started feeling the effects of the drugged orange juice quickly, since she had an empty stomach, “You eat like a pig. I wish you would drop dead.” The last thing she saw was his evil face as she blacked out. The amount of orange juice she drank contained a light dose of drugs. He wanted her to wake up shortly after he was done with her.
Nina was calculating her next move as she watched him eat. He finished the eggs and toast and carried Amber to his bedroom. She noticed the baseball sitting on a shelf near the bedroom door and smiled. He laid Amber on the bed and took off his pants.
“Baby, you are looking so sexy,” he said, and she could see he was ready for action.
“GET AWAY FROM HER!” Nina commanded, and he looked around to see who was there. She was delighted that he could hear her, this was an unexpected bonus. He decided to check the living room to make sure there was no one in the house, and he was at the perfect angle for what she had in mind. She willed the baseball to fly, and it smacked him in the groin before he realized what hit him.
He cried out in pain and fell to the floor screaming, “FUCK! THAT HURTS! DEMONS, GET OUT OF HERE!”
“Demons? Hmmm, what else can this demon do?” she thought with glee. As he was hunched over in pain holding his balls and crying, she moved the baseball bat sitting up against the wall and hit him on the back of the head, knocking him unconscious. “I need to get home and feed Buttercup. I’ll be back,” she thought . . .
I've wanted to write a book since I was a child, it was the first thing I can ever remember saying I wanted to do when I grow up. I love creating worlds in my mind and writing about them. My best days are when my characters decide to have lively conversations and I type them fast and furious.
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